


Stories of the Second Self: Fourth Year of Forever, Dale Groneck Journal Entry

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [134]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Year Four of Alter Idem and Dale Groneck still struggles with his static existence as a vampire emotionally removed from society. Once again contemplating suicide, Dale's plan is diverted toward an outdoor concert. He finds that all those in attendance are werewolves, and despite that they make no objection to Dale attending the event. Finding a sense of community, Dale learns he no longer needs to be the outsider.
Series: Alter Idem [134]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Fourth Year of Forever, Dale Groneck Journal Entry

You never know where you'll be when you found your tribe.

Yeah, it's me, Dale again. Year Four, Alter Idem and I know who my people are now. Whoever's reading this is thinking, wait a second, the dude's a nightcrawler! They ain't got no people, don't even have DNA to trace back to living people.

All that's true. My parents disowned me, and I couldn't claim genetic connection anyway. Four years on, and I'm back to wondering if I just should've taken an unprotected stroll in daylight again.

The out and out hysteria against vampires has subsided to a low boil of distrust. My neighbors still reach for their phones to dial 911, but without so much panic in their eyes. I mentioned this to a black guy once, and he leaned over to whisper, "Welcome to my world."

It's not like before, where everything went bad for me. Just that I feel like I'm not in society so much as surrounded by it. Imagine that you're some guy in a show, trapped in the TV, yet you see everyone who has it on. You're in the same rut, but they're living their lives and getting on.

Having driven out to one of the less used parks, I figured, sure why not. Strip down the polarized face shield and tight-weave cover and just fuckin' cook. Only, when I'm about to do that this tribal sounding drum beat starts up. Next comes the electric guitar, but I'm not sure if it's some sort of neo-country or metal or something in between. After, it's... I think, a violin. Weird, so I go lookin' for where it's all coming from. Then the singer starts.

Only it's not like any voice I'd heard out of a human before. There's a growl or some shit, and yet, I don't think it's a werewolf. I walk over to where the park meets some sort of fence all grown over with plants, and two posts that probably was a gate at one point. That's where it's coming from.

I dig through the tangle of branches and take a peek. Wouldn't you know it, there's like some howler metal concert goin' on! Many of them are turned and jammin' out hard to the song, but I can't tell what the hell the lyrics are saying. These people aren't like some street pack, where everyone is a furry-tailed thug.

No, these people are from every walk of life you can think of all come together to enjoy the fact they got the beast goin' on. I see several Hell's Angels jackets, but also people who look like they should be at some country-western line dance thing. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, American Indian, even Pacific Islander, all workin' the werewolf stomp with a huffing growl to each beat.

So, I climb over the mess of branches and vines and shit, and just kinda chill near the back. Turns out, the song's some Mongolian metal with traditional throat singing that was around since before Alter Idem. The next song is Viking metal, and something else entirely after that. Only one thing holds every song in common, I realize. They're all about wolves in some way.

A few people notice me hanging out behind them, and one points me out to others. Then... and this is the shit that blows me away, they go back to just havin' a good time. No one freaks out, no one gives me any shit, they just do what they do.

As the night comes on a few actually speak to me; ask me my name and where I'm from. That's the thing; sundown and they're more sociable to me than when it'd be seen safe to approach a nightcrawler.

Now it's a weekly thing I do. They hold these kind of park parties and anyone's invited. I'm making friends here, and some of the biker guys call me Tank, 'cause I'm basically the strongest person there. Things're gonna be alright now.

No more thoughts of sunbathing, which is basically nightcrawler code-speak for suicide. These're my people!


End file.
